Halcyon Days
by Anna Ti'ana
Summary: Allen/Lavi. Written for dgm fuh q. Mix of smut and humour. "Then the standard protocol has something about wooing involved; which in their case would translate to Lavi spending every single penny he had on feeding Allen."


**Title:** Halcyon Days  
**Rating:** R - NC17  
**Characters:** Allen/Lavi  
**Summary:** "Then the standard protocol has something about wooing involved; which in their case would translate to Lavi spending every single penny he had on feeding Allen."  
**Spoilers/Warnings:** No spoilers. Attempted mix of funny and smut? ^^;  
**Disclaimer:** -man be Hoshino's baby, I write fic for no sane reason.  
**A/N:** Written for **dgm_fuh_q** (Round 1: Allen Walker). Let us pretend I did not procrastinate, that I did not discard seven different word docs, headdesk repeatedly and this fic was _exactly_ what I intended from the start. Yess.

* * *

Allen stops.

Lavi's eye snaps open incredulously. He's well aware that there are moments in life, where you can stop, take a step back and think. Maybe if you're really lucky haul yourself right back from the precipice and walk towards something completely different, a whole other track. Change everything completely.

Stopping, thinking, smelling the roses, he understands that. But there seems to be something fundamentally and wholly wrong to stop_ when you've got a finger up somebody's ass_.

"Allen?" He has to ask, hasn't he? They both can't stay frozen like this for god-knows how long.

"… same damn hair," Allen mutters and squints at him.

Being stared at with bathed breath, lusty eyes and promises of being ravaged, fucked senseless and all that was not, in the same category at being _squinted_ at. Not even close.

Then Allen starts to scowl.

The scowl is worse. It isn't comforting in the least bit and Lavi starts to worry. And what was that about his hair? He has nice hair! No one has ever _complained_ about it!

Be rational, he tells himself and frantically tries to put together whatever little pieces he has into a puzzle, it's what he's used to doing, taking bits and forming a picture; Gramps would howl in agony at how he uses his fantastically trained brain oh dear.

He, has, the Bookman Jr gravely admits after a second, made a bit of mistake. Been a bit of a fool.

* * *

Normalcy indicated there should have been awkwardness, blushing, sweet little declarations of 'I like you I find you very pretty' and all those cushioning words that heralded the starting of a relationship. Then the standard protocol has something about wooing involved; which in their case would translate to Lavi spending every single penny he had on feeding Allen. And maybe flowers if he was feeling particularly generous (would have possibly sold his scarf to pay for those flowers). Probably a little bit of groping in between before they turned to not-no-sweet babblings of 'I like you I find you very sweet and all but I find your body really, really hot so let's fuck'.

But, no, not for them, expected normalcy is never for them.

Allen and him had pretty much skipped everything and jumped to sex. Which was Allen's fault, really. Leaving the bathroom door unlocked so your roommate who's always had a bit of a 'thing' for you can barge in and find you stark naked and utterly aroused is practically a invitation.

Lavi's cock had reacted in spastic, almost violent joy upon finally, finally seeing the object of his wet dreams. Allen on the other hand didn't look too pleased or even remotely excited, in fact his grey-eyes had gone wide in panic but the hand stroking himself (ohGod he could see his _wet_ aroused penis) hadn't stopped, hadn't paused and Bookman Jr used his well honed battle reflexes to react, take five steps and relieve Allen's poor, poor (but also very lucky) hand from it's task.

Allen had not killed him, instead choked, squeezed his eyes shut and clutched Lavi's jacket violently as the redhead's fingers moved relentlessly; stroking, trying to memorize every inch, every jerk and gasp. It hadn't taken many a great many strokes before Allen came with a shudder. That had been a sight to behold and Lavi had wanted to gawk in awe.

Disappointment that he hadn't gotten to do more, so much _more_, feel more, lick him, ravage him, taste him – all got shoved in the corner when Allen had proceeded to enact a dying man by wobbling ungraciously and slumping on the floor.

Lavi had sat down too, brain reeling, wondering if it would be pushing it to far if he jerked off now while his fingers were still wet and sticky and oh he wanted to _taste_ him so badly.

He should have gotten up, turned the shower off and found some place private where he could replay that scene in his mind again and again – but dear sweet naïve, Allen had reached forward and kissed him. Sweetly with the barest bit of tongue involved. Lavi's brain bid him a fond adieu.

So, naturally, he had fucked the Destroyer of Time on the bathroom floor with spit as lubrication (much to Allen's dismay). The steady stream of the shower in the background was a pitter-pattering to their rising moans and growls. It had seemed like the next step, it had felt like the most fantastic thing in the world. Perfect.

The next day Allen had scowled at him every possible second, trying valiantly not to limp around on the mission and Lavi had thought aw fuck, big, _big_ mistake. Hormonal big gigantic mistake and friendship was possibly the only thing preventing Allen from skewering him like a shish-kebab on his sword.

He had, with the best of intentions, once they had returned to the Order, gone to apologize to Allen and explain that he was not a slobbering beast who randomly attacked and had sex with friends on bathroom floors.

Upon entering his room, a pink bottle of some moisturizer had been thrown at him and Allen had hissed "This time, I get to fuck you".

There was no point in arguing someone that determined and besides a smirking Allen looked pretty damn hot.

So, on that cherry declaration, their relationship, for lack of a better term, had started.

* * *

They have never, realizes the redhead, talked. Ever. One of those serious big ole heart to heart talks. Never talked about them and what it was. He looks at the still somewhat scowling Allen, tries to ignore the finger (which is getting uncomfortable) and decides to rectify that. The wording is important; it mustn't come out sounding piteously like 'Don't you find me pretty?'

So he smiles, nice big fake smile and asks "Would you rather have sex with someone else, Allen?" and oh God his heart is not having spasms at those words.

That seems to jolt Allen back to reality "What? No. What – why – wait _what_?"

Lavi still maintains the grin; he was scowled at, somewhat in between sex he was _scowled_ at – it needs to be sorted out.

"What about sex with Kanda?" Fighting and love, such a tiny thin line and sex just muddles everything up anyway so it's not like it makes a difference.

There is a weighty silence "Are you insane?" Allen stares at him like he's knows the answer anyway, "God. You _are_ insane".

But, but he's not the one who spaced out during sex!

Walker looks at his barely there erection in surprise, he wiggles his finger which – _ah_ –makes Lavi's penis twitch.

Not yet, not yet, not yet, no, no, no – first he must –

"Seriously. Not Kanda?" He knows it's not Lenalee, that much at least he knows.

"Lavi," Allen says patiently while he adds another finger and starts to stretch him slowly, resuming as if he'd never stopped. "If I was that desperate to fuck Kanda I'd just go have sex with Lenalee"

Bookman Jr thinks he understands; he feels lets himself relax just a bit, still as confused but not that tensed. "Komui would kill you if you tried that"

"Lenalee wouldn't," the little devil smirks.

Before Lavi can protest at the presumptuousness, Allen bends and starts to suck his dick.

What was supposed to be a protest winds up being a relived groan. Finally. After that very odd brief break, _finally_.

He watches, eyes half lidded at the white-haired bobbing head, tries not to stare too intently at the pink lips as they drag themselves up and down in a slow hypnotizing rhythm. Tries not to feel too deeply the wet heat surrounding his cock, it will be too much, he'll come too soon but he can't stop wanting to experience everything, to etch this in his brain, this time, the first time, every other single damn time. He tries to ignore the third finger stretching prodding and – _there_! Lavi arches up in a cry.

Fingers, mouths are removed, Allen's lips are on his in a slobbery kiss and gently he feels wet, hot, hard, being pushed, squeezed and it's never comfortable at first.

The smirk has been wiped off; Allen looks just as desperate as he feels. Good, it won't be dragged out till Lavi's a helpless pleading puddle. Thank God.

A deep shuddering breath is the only warning he gets before Allen pulls out and slams back in, brutally hard and he winds up feeling like a helpless puddle anyway.

Legs spread, on his back, a cock up his ass, he had always feared that it would make him feel like a woman. But Allen Walker is horribly scarred. The chest is crisscrossed and lined and filled with scars from too many battles. Swinging the damn clown-huge-sword of his has started to give Walker arms rivaling Kanda's. Allen's not sparklingly pretty when he's naked, he's unusual, he's _him_ and he's holding on to sanity despite being designated as the one to save the world. Being fucked by him, it doesn't make Lavi feel any less of a man.

The thrusts become wilder, forceful and Bookman Jr's brain finally, tiredly shuts down.

Everything gets reduced to the noise of skin slapping on skin; Allen's little grunts, as rams his hips harder, hits Lavi's prostate every fucking time, the room's wet with the sound of groans and moan and – Allen tenses, squeezes his eyes shut and comes with a soft cry. The sight is enough, just about enough so when Walker wraps his fingers around his painfully hard cock, it takes him only seconds before he comes apart.

It takes minutes, however to piece his shattered sanity together and he mumbles out, "What were you doing?"

Allen cracks open one eye and stares at him balefully. "Lavi, it's a little late for that. You can't scream rape now"

"The scowling. Sprout, dear. The happy scowling"

"Ah"

"…"

"…"

"Well?"

"For a moment you remindedmeofCross"

"What?!"

"I think it was the hair" Allen babbles

"The hair" Lavi repeats

"Yes. Same colour and all that. Plus he's got half his face covered and you have – " Allen motions with his nose and Lavi wonders if anybody else will get used to the oddity of that.

He touches his eye patch cautiously. Talking, he'd wanted to do that. Right. He has a damn eye under it, it's not a mutated scar he's hiding but if he ever spills that secret Gramps would roast him and feed him to swine.

"… and you look like him sometimes – a bit a little – just a little…" Allen shudders.

Lavi tries pathetically to remember the sex and euphoria that existed a few minutes before.  
It doesn't work.

"Less of a devil-him. Almost like what he would be as a kid. Well you never know, Master may have been born a terror. Heh. You could be related"

Possible, Lavi's brain slowly informs him. He doesn't remember his parents at all, doesn't know them and considering the General's womanizing ways… But if he tells Allen that –

"You're not related, right?" Allen asks near hysterically.

Talking, his subconscious reminds him, _you wanted to do that_. Right. He should. They need to.

Allen continues to look alarmed.

If he tells Allen that he's never _ever_ going to get him to have sex again. That would be awful.

"Nope," he grins and proceeds to cuddle the weary, sweaty exorcist.

Talking. They need to do that. Maybe when they're not fighting, not trying to survive, not showing in actions what can never be expressed in words, maybe the war finally stops, when he finally knows if he's an exorcist or Bookman or just a human. Then, maybe, they'd talk.

Yeah. Maybe. One day.

* * *

_Concrit makes me happy. Comments are love ^^_


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